


she calls me

by Corvitas



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Chapter 1 Spoilers, Character Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 04:30:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12425052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvitas/pseuds/Corvitas
Summary: what she sees - what I am - what I'm not -





	she calls me

“Kaede—”

He is greeted with a laugh much like a papillon lily, all brittle and fond and riding on a seafoam spool.

And he feels a finger rest on a collarbone-train – _his_ (and that metrical pulse of his turns to wildfire again, ferriferous cord in a muffling, democratic dark—)

it’s mortifying, mortifying (for he whose eyes are spurned theatres, houses for a mortem daze in-the-futile-making—)  

It is mortifying and yet

“K-Kaede, I—”

“Shuichi.” She breathes back at last, shedding an aphrodisiac ghost onto the dainty knob of his Adam’s apple and it—unfurls like a lacewinged drug, bleeds selenic spiders by the sweet, _sweet_ dozen along his moon-kissed, dour circuits-of-being (—they’re all but memorial grounds now, archaic home to crescent kisses and waning whispers and all lacrimal shards of testament to her, and her and _her_ —)

“ _Shuichi_.”

“A-Ah—”

The irregulars between them warp like innocuous mana, threatening a rupture in him of the gentlest ilk—already he is dangling like a calcifier’s puppet over her ethereal maw, promethean doll-legs crudely poised and aching for a white-rabbit spillage—

“— _I   l   v  e_ _y_ ”

She murmurs, almost croaks—and in the morgue-full of his murky fathomings crawls a limping, threadbare _sob and_ —

_—why of all people….would you_

_care to call me—_

_Anchor_ , croons the lonely, travelling finger, down a wan stretch of thigh to stir more frissons light as the fae. _Truth_.

 _Lies_ , the wormhole-vault in his ribcage mourns back, though he falls (typical) regardless – tangled softly by the heels into her angel’s mantra. _Impostor_.

_he’s never deserved he’ll never deserve_

“ _— l  v_   ”

The static bleats past his ears in a fraught finale and she- -he realizes that she

th—at angel’s mantra is g—

 _and the hangman tiptoes out a starry farewell, its organs retc_  
_hing out a storm o_  
_f plasmic kingdoms—  
**… qu     i  et   Q  u i-  -**_

Magenta snakes over the skin- -thorny splatter by splatter and

 _it is me. my supine codes_  
_have failed you. i  
; an algorithmic  b a star d   chi ld—_

—gnaws away at the lunulae entombed in his irises, a harlequin foreboding armed with a  
_knife down the gullet_

And in the hollows of his lungs, the programmed reapers yield their squalls, sickle-limbs flailing in the muffling, democratic dark as she topples—contents cascading do _wn his calves and his industrial blue throat, and into those damaged keyholes-in-his-eyes that beat once, like mundane quartzes—(in the presence of her, but)_

—now the puppet plummets endlessly  
into a cradle spiked with tendoned vanes, bathed in

streaks of horror and horror and

gauze, and the parasitic memory of no more no m

.

she calls me—

.

_—ton m—I t—ahw_

**Author's Note:**

> a testament to being thoroughly wrecked by V3.


End file.
